Yesterday my Uncle Dubbie died. I found out just a few minutes ago. I'm very sad and ashamed because I've been thinking of sending him a letter for months now. The last thing he said to me was, "Come on by any time and I'll fix you a steak dinner." I'm so sorry I never wrote. I'm so sorry I never came by. I've never wanted a steak dinner so bad in all my life. I remember when I was a child... maybe 4 years old... we lived on Kely Highway in Ft. Smith, Arkansas and Uncle Dub, a truck driver at the time, would drive by once in awhile in his rig and honk his horn for me. I remember playing in the yard with my dog, Fluffy, and looking for Uncle Dub to drive by. I remember he'd lean out the window and smile and wave. I wasn't as close to him as some of my other family, but he was a constant presence in my life for my entire childhood. He always reminded me a bit of John Wayne. Uncle Dubbie, I love you... I hate saying that now that you can't hear it...
...rest in peace.
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